May 29th: Hanne Williams-Baron
7:30am. I wake to the muted sounds of a robotic piano crescendoing from behind the kitchen door. I have been experimenting with “no phone in bed” this year, and find the social pressure of potentially waking up my roommates with my alarm to be enough incentive to get up and turn it off each day. I emerge from my bed, which I have made neat while still laying inside of it, pulling the cover taut and then carefully sliding out like a salamander surfacing from a pond. My tortie cat Gentle pounces on my feet as soon as I open the door. She begs for kibble. I pick her up and cradle her like the human baby I will never afford to have. Gentle’s favorite song recently is “I’m Every Woman” by Chaka Khan. She just loves it, purring ecstatically as I swing her around our makeshift dancefloor. I love when Chaka sings I can read your thoughts right now/Every one, from A to Z/Whoa, whoa, whoa. That’s me and Gentle. We’re locked in. It’s time for breakfast.
8:08am. Eating a Wonder Bread-brand bagel from Safeway because it was a dollar cheaper than the others on the shelf. It’s kind of grossly sweet and definitely smaller than a bagel ought to be. I feel scammed. The accompanying cream cheese was left over from an event my roommate G worked at months ago. I discovered it tucked into the corner of the fridge and was shocked that the expiration date had not yet passed! In this moment I am grateful for preservatives. A friend told me that Safeway was the cheapest grocery store in the area when you make use of the weekly coupons, but considering that most of the coupons were for things I have no interest in eating (especially since I don’t eat meat), I have no desire to return. I’m trying hard to strategically navigate shopping on a budget during times of inflation, while also taking great effort to not restrict my intake or judge myself for my food choices. My “intuitive eating” desires feel really challenged by the realities of this recession. I’m also thinking a lot about the images I’m seeing of the food distribution sites in Gaza which have been the site of so much horrific violence by Israeli settlers. Every meal I eat I am thinking about how my taxes are funding genocide and forcibly starving Palestinians. It is sickening to flip in between that picture of the world and then right back to my peaceful kitchen, cats at my feet, music on the stereo, feeling picky over my stupid bagel. Impossible to reconcile. My friend A invited a gratitude prayer before eating dinner together with J and S the other night. We held hands and each whispered a “thank-you” from the day. I try to incorporate it into my solo breakfast, thanking the many resistors worldwide who are risking their lives for a free Palestine.
8:30am. Entering the bathroom for my shower, I see that my other cat Mango has left me a generous gift in the form of a shredded toilet paper roll. I’m kind of impressed; it’s very sculptural and the tendrils billow in the presence of the air purifier’s gentle wind. It looks like a dress Caroline Polachek would wear. After I shower, I get dressed: black Nightjars t-shirt, little orange Yayoi Kusama bandana, black and pink striped skirt. The look I’m going for is “babysitter with taste.”
9:15am Remotely clocking into work. I’m reviewing budgets and contracts for a ton of partner agencies today. I work for an environmental nonprofit that facilitates EBT access at farmers’ markets in California. A lot of my market partners are asking questions about the “Big Beautiful Bill” that just passed the House. The bill intends to cut food benefits for a ton of people. It hasn’t passed the Senate yet, but it’s not looking good. I haven’t worked in the food access world until now, so I’ve been getting a crash course on the issues facing farmers and market operators in California. Water is extremely expensive, Immigration and Customs Enforcement is intimidating and abducting workers, and so many farms are still dealing with the financial impacts of COVID. The fragility of our food system truly scares me, how founded it is upon exploitation of undocumented migrants and low-wage workers, how vulnerable it is to climate chaos. What will the state of farming look like even 2, 3 years from now? Though much of my work is done in the bowels of financial spreadsheets, I feel really emotionally connected to my partners across the state and worried for their wellbeing.
11am. My roommate G texts our house group chat a link to the new Alex G music video for his song “Afterlife”. G says “So many good horses in this video!!” Afterwards I get derailed watching Instagram Reels of a private “botanical” chef for half an hour. I’m mesmerized by her edible flower budget. I awaken from the haze when I get an instant message from the supervisor. I lock back in by chucking my phone across the room.
3pm. I get an email that my copy of Alison Bechdel’s new memoir Spent has arrived at Pegasus Books! Most of my work is done for the day, so I walk to the bus to retrieve the book. On the way to the bus stop I pause to flirt with a stunning red rose. It looks just like the emboldened dancer emoji: 💃. I also see a devastating hand-written poster for a lost cat named Curry. The top of the poster reads “We Miss Her.” The quotation marks really make me feel verklempt. I hope Curry finds her way home.
3:28pm. I arrive at Pegasus. I’m aware it was not financially wise to spend $32 on this hardcover, but I justify it as a necessary purchase for my whole community (it will travel between many South Berkeley queer apartment complexes as soon as I finish it). As a fellow Oberlin alum, I’m excited to see how Bechdel roasts our insular know-it-all campus. As I flip through the pages, I’m excited to see how the illustrations incorporate COVID precautions into the world of the book. I hate how so much of the media has intentionally invisibilized COVID. I wish more people would acknowledge how the world has changed and that there’s no way to return to the world pre-2020. Seeing people's masks in the pages of the book makes me feel less alone.
4pm. I head home to wrap up work and pack my bag to go into San Francisco. Tonight is the rehearsal for my sister’s wedding ceremony! We’re going to meet in a park in the city and practice walking veeeeery slowly toward the altar. I’m the Ring Bearer and kicking off the whole show. The theatrics of a marriage ceremony generally feel very camp and gay to me, but this particular event is unabashedly straight…duality.
5:30pm. I take BART into the city. There’s a woman with extraordinarily long hair on the platform at MacArthur, so long it nearly reaches her calves. It blows in the wind and I can see some areas where it’s wavy, and other parts where it’s straight. It’s brown like a corduroy couch cushion with little silver flint strands intermixed. I imagine her running her brush through it and how it might feel. I imagine her shampooing it all at once, bubbles piling atop her head…does it reach the ceiling? It’s just so much hair. I wonder what it means to her.
6:30pm. We practice Marriage in the park. My sister is attempting to direct everyone as my mother, brother and father interrupt with questions. We begin the choreography: first the groom walks with his father, then I join them with the rings, then my brother with the marriage license, then my parents with the bride. My mom yells that I’m walking too fast. I try to picture myself walking through peanut butter, which slows me down. I thought our configuration might turn some heads in this public space, but the dog walkers don’t seem fazed. I witness one glam poodle and two little barky ones.
8pm. Finally heading home. After dinner, I watch the new episode of Sex and the City: And Just Like That.. Rosie O’Donnell guest stars as a lesbian nun who is overjoyed to sleep with Miranda. Carrie sports an obscenely large hat. G comes home and we chat about our days.
11pm. I fall asleep before my head even hits the pillow.
Hanne Williams-Baron is a big fat dyke living in Berkeley, CA. She received her Certificate in Comics from the Sequential Artists Workshop and her BA in Comparative American Studies from Oberlin College. Find current work and selfies on Instagram at @love.is.a.doing.word and more at heyhanne.org.